


Radiohead

by dichotomy



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: I don't want to tag this legitimately bc this isn't actually fic, I literally did this to take the piss out of my friend, M/M, Oh My God, Oh god, this wasn't supposed to happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-23
Updated: 2014-04-23
Packaged: 2018-01-20 11:49:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1509413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dichotomy/pseuds/dichotomy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>DON'T ASK ME</p>
            </blockquote>





	Radiohead

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AVIV #HEARTEMOJI](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=AVIV+%23HEARTEMOJI).



> OH MY GOD
> 
> I literally wrote this in under an hour because I was in the shower shaving and I thought about Nick foR some reason and then I thought about Aviv as usual and then I was like ~gryles~ and THEN I was like oh my god Radiohead and I thought about puns aND THIS IS WHAT FUCKING HAPPENED. 
> 
> I SWORE TO MYSELF I WOULD NEVER WRITE FIC AGAIN BECAUSE I AM SHIT AT IT AND ESPECIALLY NOT GRYLES BUT LOOK WHAT FUCKING HAPPENED. 
> 
> I hate myself go yell at aviv aka @mochamiIk on twitter I'm sK

Nick rolls his eyes. He does not look down. He is not weak. He will not lose to Finchy. Finchy grins from the other side of the glass divider. 

“Well.”

~*~

Niall is convinced Nick is god. 

“Harry, _listen_ to him okay, his show, it’s like, awesome. I love him. We are soul mates,” he whines to Harry.

Harry stares at him. “Niall. One, you’re straighter than my mother, and she’s happily married with two kids. Including me. Two, I am _friends_ with said Nick Grimshaw. Why are you selling my own friend to me?”

“Because you haven’t fucked him yet,” comes the casual answer. 

Harry leaves the room.

~*~

Nick is so calm. So chill. Like, ice cold. He’s got this under control. No problemo!

Harry runs into the office laughing, his plaid shirt barely buttoned and his hair an absolute mess. He’s holding Nick’s car keys, Finchy’s binder, Fiona’s earring, and a chocolate bar.

Fiona shrugs. Finchy wiggles his eyebrows.

Nick doesn’t have this under control.

“Harry, you insufferable brat, give everyone their shit back, and give _me_ my keys back. Oi! When did you even take them?” Nick asks, surprised. He glances down at the table in front of him. It’s a disaster zone. 

“Okay, it probably isn’t that hard,” he concedes. Harry smiles widely. 

“Heeeeyyy Nicky,” he drawls. “I’m a sneaky thief!”

Nick levels him with a look. “No, you’re an endearing ball of _idiocy_ that no one corrects,” Nick replied, voice purposefully pompous. Alright, he hadn’t meant to say ‘endearing’, but shit happens, alright?

Harry ignores Nick. “Fiiiinchy, can I do your job today? I’ve got your binder!” 

Finchy winks at Nick. “Yeah, sure, get over here.”

Nick glares. Finchy preens.

~*~

Nick should probably clarify: Finchy does not want to fuck Harry. Mostly. FINCHY wants NICK to fuck Harry. Nick is not sure why this is happening to him.

~*~

A week later Harry is back in the studio because Harry is an international pop princess boybander singer dude and he has a shitload of money and flies places at his whim. That is what Nick decides, anyway. Why else would Harry be in the BBC studio at 6:30 am on a Tuesday.

Harry looks tired but, again, international pop princess boybander singer dude. He does a lot of shows. And radio interviews. Not with Nick. And stuff.

Nick is not bitter. Nick is sweet. Like jelly. On toast. With a side of tea and fucking crumpets. _He is BRITISH_.

Harry smiles anyway, because Harry is not human and smiles at 6:30 am even though the night before he was singing at the O2. It’s very normal. Obviously.

“Hi radio people, what’s going on?” he asks happily. Nick almost smiles… fondly. He rolls his eyes instead. 

“ _Harry_. What’re you doing here mate? Go to _sleep_ ,” Nick lectures. “I mean, not that I don’t want to see your beautiful, young, smiling, wrinkle-free face among all of our granparently faces.”

Finchy gasps. “Excuse me, lover boy, I am not _old_ , I am _aging normally_.”

Fiona looks at him. “Okay, Fincham, okay.”

Finchy looks back. “He called you old too, y’know.”

Fiona looks away.

Meanwhile, Harry is making himself _quite_ at home on Nick’s lap. 

“Hey, Grimmy, wanna do me a favor?” he asks, eyes deceptively innocent. Nick nods like a whipped bitch. He is weak. It is unacceptable. 

“Wanna let me suck your dick?”

Nick _feels_ his eyes go wide. “Um.” For once, he is lost for words. Nick Big-Mouth-Always-Witty-Very-Cheerful-in-the-Morning Grimshaw has no response. 

Harry wiggles his eyebrows. “Radiohead.”

Nick feels like Harry just slapped him in the face with a slab of cold meat. “Did you, Harry Styles, ACTUALLY just make a fucking _pun_ out of an English rock band’s name and my _job_.”

Harry nods. “Yeah. Pretty clever, huh?”

~*~

That is how Nick ended up with his dick in Harry’s mouth, in the middle of his own radio studio, making eye contact with his very smug best mate through a glass window.

**Author's Note:**

> WHAT THE FRICKLE
> 
> no plot development, no proofread, no actual characters, kinda crack!fic... this is everything I dislike in a fic. 
> 
> I hate myself,,,


End file.
